Conversation · Evrart Claire

With a grin he points to the cheque again. It's like you're on a game show... At least don't thank him for it.

(Take the comically large cheque but don't say anything.)

"Is there anything you'd like to say to me, or...?"

No.

"No, it's cool." (You've got integrity.)

"Cool? I wouldn't go that far. I'm sure there are cooler things than delivering a comically oversized novelty cheque to a cafeteria manager, but, sure... if that's what's cool nowadays."

"Now, I'd like to set your mind at ease about one other matter: your lost gun. Let me assure you, Union people are on it as we speak. I've got my best hounds looking for that lost gun."

His slug-like lips move, but all you hear is an echo: lost gun, lost gun, lost gun...

The world is swallowed by a black hole of fear. Only two words escape its gravitational pull: lost and gun.

When he said "don't worry" he actually meant "be very worried."

"I would appreciate any help you could provide."

"Are you alright, Harry? You seem anxious. Don't be. Everything's going to be alright."

"It's not like you left it loaded. You didn't lose a loaded gun. Local children aren't out there playing with it right now, pointing it into their own mouths... It's in a safe place. I just know it. I have a feeling everything's going to be alright."

It was loaded. There were two bullets in it. You always keep at least two barrels loaded.

Don't panic.

Who does this guy think you are -- Ronnie the Rookie? You ain't worried about no lost gun or unpaid bill or forgotten name! You're the bad cop, you're probably more corrupt than him!

Give him The Expression -- Click-click.

The fat man seems to be enjoying your rigor mortis grin -- he shoots one just like it right back at you.

Good. Now lean in with some corruption.

"Listen, Evrart -- pal, we both know what makes the wheels of the world turn."

"That we do, Harry. Let them say what they will about you and me, we're both born fighters."

"Mhm. This fighter only sits on a throne."

"I do want you to feel at home, Harry, truly. But you'll have to excuse the humble accommodations."

That's it -- now kick back and add a final flourish. For dignity.

"This is a würm's lair and we both know why I'm here -- to help grow your hoard."

"You strike me as a reasonable man, Harry -- I like that in a lawman." He smiles. "Let's cut to the chase, shall we? What can Evrart Claire do for you?"

"I think we'd like to ask you a few questions. Don't you think so, detective?" The lieutenant looks quite fed up with the situation.

Somehow you managed to get yourself out of this one. Now quick, keep the momentum up, ask questions!

Questions will show him who's boss.

Whatever you do, don't ask him about the gun first. You don't want him thinking you're scared.

"Thanks for your hospitality. Feel free to visit me down at the station any time."

"I'm not saying I'm corrupt. I'm rational."

"This fighter could've used a more comfortable chair."

"Nice bit with the chair, by the way..." (Chuckle.) "A good way to keep your guests on edge."

"Why, thank you, it's always nice when a fellow professional appreciates your work."

Give him The Expression -- and the finger pistols!

Snap, snap! The fat man shoots those finger pistols right back at you. He seems to be enjoying the display.

Sink deep into the folding chair. Smile and cross your hands behind your back.

The fat man does the same -- sinking deeper into his chair than one would think is physically possible. He seems to be enjoying your little display.

Wait, that's it? That's my point of pride here?

Fuck yeah! Remember when you tried The Expression on that little minx in the silver jumpsuit? That was you.

Try it on Evrart!

Fuck yes! You're part of the old guard, the ancient guard -- the most corrupt, unholy cops in the land. Chill out like the black dragon you are.

Summon a smile on your face. A big shit eating grin like his.

Relax, loosen up -- get comfortable.

You cross your legs and yawn. The fat man does the same -- sinking deeper into his chair than one would think is physically possible. He seems to be enjoying your little display.

God, you're sweating... your knee is jerking... you're about to cry, aren't you? You're about to cry, because you lost your gun and those children are going to shoot themselves with it.

So what. Men can cry too.

You want to cry? God, you're weak. Whatever you do, don't cry. He'll think you're disgusting.

"Mr. Du Bois, you don't look so good..."

"Mr. Du Bois... Mr. Du Bois! Harry!!!" The large man snaps his fingers, but to no effect -- you're in some stupor.

Keep sliding down the chair like a jello shot.

While Evrart is distracted by your odd behaviour, the lieutenant's eyes are mapping everything around you. The folder, desk, papers on the wall...

"Mr. Du Bois... Are you okay? Can I get you a glass of water or something? Are you having some kind of medical emergency?"

"I'm melting..."

"What an odd demonstration of... huh, you got me, Harry... I don't even know what. As entertaining as it was, I'm afraid we're wasting our time, and I'm an extremely busy man, as I'm sure you are too."

"Okay, enough! We are here to ask you some questions pertaining to a murder investigation."

Quick, here's your window! Get yourself together and ask him questions! Police officer questions!

It is about a time to stop embarrassing yourself. Questions will help you regain some of your lost dignity.

"Oh yeah, man -- I'm fucking great..." (Keep sliding.)